


Cream of Chicken

by kadytheredpanda



Category: Spirou et Fantasio
Genre: Fluff, Gen, fanta how the fuck did you get chicken pox at your age, in which kady uploads oldass fics of hers, spirou cant cook for shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadytheredpanda/pseuds/kadytheredpanda
Summary: Prompt: taking care of the other while sick. There's no way Spirou can mess this up. The instructions make it look so easy.
Kudos: 5





	Cream of Chicken

**Author's Note:**

> 2015 vintage. I always thought this was a cute fic. 
> 
> Original notes: Originally written for a Tumblr meme request by Raax. I like cream of chicken soup, but I can never cook it out of the can correctly. So that was the inspiration for it, I guess. I was originally going to give Fantasio shingles, but decided adult chicken pox is more consistent with his luck. I also headcanon Spirou as being a pretty crappy cook. Go figure.

"How's the itching now, Fantasio?" Spirou called out as he opened their pantry.

"It's mostly gone right now," he replied from the living room. "That oatmeal bath you gave me really helped."

"Good, good," the redhead muttered before turning his line of vision to the soups. "What soup did you want again?"

"Uh..." He coughed. "Chicken noodle. We got that?"

Neither Fantasio or he were great soup consumers, so it was surprising to see how large the stock in the cabinet was. There must've been an excellent sale when they were in a great pinch or fearful of one, because it wasn't just the volume that surprised Spirou, but the variation: tomato, Italian wedding, minestrone, something that claimed to be Cajun style gumbo, cream of celery, cream of mushroom, cream of chicken. Just enough to down for awhile before returning to the grocery store, and just enough variation for the two best friends to not lose their minds over the redundancy.

And yet, with all that variation, to his frustration...

"Spirou..."

Spirou stared at the dust covered can of vichyssoise that was crammed in the back until a couple seconds ago, then with a grunt pushed it back in its original place between a can of tomato and one of the many cream of chickens in the hoard.

Clutching a can, he moved back into the living room. Fantasio cuddled in an unzipped sleeping bag on the couch, watching the telly and apparently lightly scratching some chicken pox on his belly, if the movement under the bag indicated anything.

"Sorry, Fanta. No chicken noodle. Not even chicken with rice. There's only cream of chicken."

Fantasio relocated his arm above the bag and weakly smiled. "That's fine. Some juice and toast will be great too."

He coughed again as Spirou got started in the kitchen. The redhead read the instructions, which were for just like all the other cans in the pantry, save for the vichyssoise. Add water or milk, and heat for a few minutes. Simple enough. He could toast the toast as the stock melted down, save some time. Get some stuff into Fantasio's queasy gullet quicker.

He poured the milk in the pot, plopped the giant glob of stock, which swished out of the can with a sick "squish" sound, turned up the heat. A couple minutes and some stirring later, he activated the toaster. In a few minutes, he'd only need to activate the toaster, pour the orange juice and set it all up on a tray.

The amount of minutes on the can elapsed, and no matter how hot it got, or how much he increased the temp, or how much he stirred, the damn soup was still more chunky goop than actual soup. He mashed each chunk with a grunt, turned up the heat to the highest setting.

"Come on," he muttered, "I'm following the directions! Why are you doing that? It's been ten minutes!"

Then he smelled something. Something carbon-y. And remembered that their old self-cancelling toaster went kaput ages ago...

Spirou cursed as he pulled the plug out of the socket, fanned the smoke beginning to fume from the toaster and its extra, extra dark contents.

"I really hope this doesn't set off--"

The fire alarm began beeping. He yelled in frustration to try to set it off. He thought he heard Fantasio attempt to say something for the blaring beeps, but paid more attention to stopping the noise with the help of a broom in the back corner.

When that was over with Spirou threw the broom down and kicked it. He grunted so hard he let out a snort, then looked back at the stove.

"NO NO NO NO NO NO!"

Spirou ran his pressing fingers through his hair in frustration, and at the waterfall of semi-curdled milk and stock running down the front of the stove and close to his feet. He stamped one foot against the floor, let out of a choke as he tugged at his hair.

"It was supposed to be easy!" He sobbed to himself, head down, eyes closed, and arms cradling himself. "Five minutes. Five minutes tops. And I ruined it all! All that waste! And it wasn't even for me..."

He didn't even have to guess who was coming behind him.

"Fantasio!" He said to the sick man that rested a hand on his shoulder. "You should lie back down!"

"Spirou! Sweet, sweet Spirou," he replied with a cough, "it's alright. Stock cream soups are a pain to cook. I don't even get it right all the time."

The redhead opened his stinging eyes and tilted his head more towards Fantasio's. "Really?"

"Yeah. Stuff happens, y'know. It's okay. Just gotta clean up and move on. I'm fine with some cereal. We still have Corn Flakes, right?"

He nodded. "I think I saw a box in the pantry."

"If not, more ice cream. You know what I like. Thanks Spirou," he said with a pat on the shoulder and a scratch to his back with his free hand. "You're doing a fine job, don't worry. If I had to choose who to help me get through adult chicken pox, I would've still chosen you, ol' buddy."


End file.
